I've Missed You So Much
by menz815
Summary: The journey of all six living survivors once they get off the island. Kate's POV, so it mostly focuses on her. Jack/Kate & Sawyer/Juliet.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Pretty much as soon as the finale finished, this was already running in my head. This is so far beyond my comfort zone, so you'll have to bear with me on this. I NEVER write chapters and I barely write dialogue. I'm not sure how many parts this will be, but I have most of it planned out. I just couldn't leave Kate's time without Jack untouched. I know everyone is going to do it, but I felt like I have to take my turn at it. It's just so heartbreaking that she lived so long without him, but I am SO SO happy with the end we got. I couldn't ask for anything more.

This may be my last fic for Lost ever. I love Jate and I love Lost and they both ended so perfectly that I feel as if I need to leave it untouched.

I hope you enjoy my little attempt. And I'll try and be speedy with updates! :)

**Disclaimer**: Don't own them.

* * *

"Where are we headed?" Sawyer calls from across the row, trying to get Frank's attention, but you can't seem to care about the answer to that question. You squeeze Claire's hand, focusing on the fact that you did what you came here to do. You concentrate on that and try not to think about anything else. But emptiness fills you, a heavy weight deep in your chest; you could crash into the ocean at this very moment, sink down into its depths and not feel a thing. Claire squeezes your hand back. She looks at you and you see it, a glimpse of the old Claire, a mother just trying to calm her child. You smile though your eyes slowly fill with tears. You hold onto her like an anchor and try not to look back.

"We had enough fuel to get to Guam, but I think I know a place closer. It's a private air space. Old friend of mine," Frank yells from the cockpit.

Question answered, Sawyer sinks back into his chair. He closes his eyes and you see one silent tear track down his face. It's only then you realize that you weren't the only one who left something behind.

* * *

"Everyone, this is Paul. He's an old friend of mine from the Air Force," Frank explains as a man covered in tattoos emerged from a dilapidated building off the air strip. His dog tags sway as he walks stiffly towards them.

"Old war wound," He chuckles drily as he catches you staring. "So what can I do you for Frank? Anything for an old buddy."

"We need passports, new identification, and a boat," Frank rambles off, much to the surprise of everyone.

"What's this about Frank?" Miles asked. "You taking us to another deserted island?" There was curiosity in his normally sarcastic tone this time, and you couldn't help but wonder what Frank was exactly playing at.

"Listen, we've got 5 people here who are supposed to be dead and one who isn't exactly supposed to be out of California," Frank said, staring at you pointedly. "But I suppose you've already got your bases covered. I saw the flight manifest. Kate Austen never boarded the plane."

Everyone turns to you then, and you just wish you could disappear for a moment. Because you know where this is heading. It's the lie all over again; only he's not here to make the brunt of it lighter. "I knew if I wanted to make it off the runway, I'd have to be someone other than a criminal on probation. I got the fake passport a long time ago, paid for the ticket in cash. I can still be Kate Austen as long as no one ever figures out I left."

"Well if you're covered, I'm assuming this new identification is for us?" Sawyer pipes in, focusing his attention once again on Frank.

"I'm not sure anyone even knew I was missing in the first place," Miles said. "I don't have any living relatives."

"I most certainly don't," Richard chuckles.

"Well, you're still gonna need IDs. Come on," Frank motions as Paul led them back into the hanger.

Five hours and one uneaten dinner later, you are still Kate Austen. But on this side of this new lie, this new life, you feel as if that means nothing. You look ahead and see nothing; the thought of getting caught once you get back to LA doesn't even really seem to matter anymore.

In the end, only Sawyer changes his name. "James LaFleur," he mutters to Paul. "I've got people looking for me back home. The kind you don't want to be found by," he says gruffly to you as you look on. But you know from the furrow in his brow that it means so much more.

* * *

The boat ride is quiet, lonely. Six vacant, empty souls, seemingly unable to move on. Claire thrashes in her sleep; nightmares cause her to tremble even as heat waves roll over your body. You stroke her back lightly as the tears once again begin to fall.

They all come home with you because they have nowhere to go.

It's a comfort. It's a comfort because to be alone in that big empty house would only remind you of all that you had lost. Every inch of that house crawled with his presence, right down to the picture of him and Aaron on the front table.

You light a fire as Claire grasps a framed picture of Aaron in her hands. She's nervous, you know, but you can't help but feel some small sense of relief. They'll be together again tomorrow. You did what you set out to do.

And as the rest of them fall asleep one by one, you watch the fire slowly burn itself out. In the darkness you feel at home.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake with the sun pouring into the windows and the living room empty. Your neck is stiff from being propped up against the couch and you roll it to the side, trying to get the kinks out. The sound of plates clinking is heard from the kitchen, but other than that, the house is silent. Maybe there just aren't any words. You make your way to the table to join them.

"Well morning sleepy head," Sawyer says. It's his normal cheeky banter, but there's a flatness to it. Even the con man can't con himself.

"Morning," you murmur, taking a seat next to Claire. The cup of coffee in her hands remains full as she stares blankly ahead.

Frank sets a plate in front of you and places some scrambled eggs on it. "I checked the expiration date. We're still good." He smiles softly and you try and make the effort to eat.

"So here's the thing," Miles says after a few prolonged moments of silence. "I nabbed the bag of diamonds buried with your two friends, Nikki and Paulo." You look at him disapprovingly, so he fires back. "Hey, it's not like they were using them! I'm getting my own place, but anyone is willing to come. I know LaFleur and Richard really don't have any money." He turns to Sawyer. "What do you say boss? Just like old times."

Sawyer sighs. You can tell there is something weighing heavy on him, but he gives Miles a small smile. "Fine, as long as you stop snoring."

"Done," Miles grins. "What about you Richard? You in?"

"I guess I am," he says, smiling.

They all go back to eating and you turn to Claire. "How about I cut your hair before we go get Aaron?"

She looks at you startled, as if she were unaware that anyone else was even in the room. "Yeah sure," she says weakly. You take her hand and squeeze it just so she knows she is not alone in this. "You're gonna be fine," you tell her. You just wish you could say the same to yourself.

* * *

"So where is he?" Claire asks as you drive towards the motel her mom was staying at. Her hair is short now, just below her chin. She looks at her hands in her lap and fidgets self-consciously.

"He's with your mother," you say smiling slightly.

"My mother?" Claire turns to you in shock. "My mother's been in a coma for years."

Now it's your turn to be shocked. "A coma?"

"Yeah, we got in a car accident when I was seventeen." Her eyes begin to flood with tears. "I never should have fought with her." You're not sure you completely understand, but you feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes anyway. "You're telling me she's alive?"

"Yes, she's alive." You choke as the tears fall unwillingly. "She thought you were dead, but I told her I was going back to the island to get you. She kept Aaron safe while I was gone."

"She's alive," Claire whispers to herself, and then her face lights up in a smile. You think then maybe everything will turn out okay.

* * *

When you get there, Carol wastes no time before wrapping Claire in her arms. The moment seems too intimate for you to observe as Claire sobs openly into her mother's chest, so you fade into the background, and smile through your tears as Carol brings Aaron into the room. Suddenly Claire's doubts no longer seem to matter; you can see it in her face as she slowly makes her way to him. She holds his tiny frame in her arms and weeps as she runs her hands through his soft blonde hair.

And as you watch this scene play out before you, you wish that you could be happy, but all you really feel is alone.

* * *

Claire decides to stay with her mother for awhile. You think about going home, but you don't want to put up the pretense of being alright.

Not tonight.

Instead you take the familiar road to his place. You park in his vacant spot and take the hide-a-key from right where you left it the last time. Your hand pauses as you reach for the door knob. You take a deep breath and steady yourself before going in.

You turn on the lights. For the most part it's clean, but when you go into the kitchen, there's still coffee in the pot and two empty mugs in the sink. It's as if he wasn't really gone after all. Any moment now he could walk into the door, home late after his last surgery of the day. Maybe you'd sit down together, have a glass of wine or two. You'd rub his neck and he'd tell you about his patients. Then you'd go to the bedroom and fall asleep in his arms.

But the coffee lies cold. It's just a remnant of a past life that will forever be just that – in the past.

You make your way to the bedroom. The bed is made, linens crisp, not one wrinkle in the fabric. Jack was always meticulous about that. Everything in perfect order. But that was usually because he just had a hard time sleeping. Methodical tasks soothed him; they just made you more frenzied.

It's seven in the evening, but you feel so exhausted, like you could sleep for the rest of your life and it just wouldn't be enough. You pull back the sheets and crawl into his bed. You are enveloped in his smell and the memories from that night only three weeks before. The tears come fast then, and you finally fall asleep imagining that he's holding you in his arms.

When you wake up, it's two in the morning. You know you need to leave this place, but not before you take him with you. In the closet, you pull out an empty box and slowly fold up all his shirts. Everything else in his apartment is cold and sterile; life as a doctor left him little time at home. But every bit of him lingers on his clothing. It's something you can hold onto for just a bit longer.

* * *

As you pull up into your driveway, you see Sawyer silently leaving the house, bag slung over his shoulder. You meet him at the walk way and he looks to the ground.

"Where are you going?" You ask after a few moments pause.

"Miami," he says finally, still not willing to look you in the eye. "I left a note for everyone inside. Juliet's got a sister there. Rachel. And a nephew. I want to tell them about her." You can hear the tears forming as his voice cracks.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye?" You ask, smirking. It's typical Sawyer through and through.

"I've had enough goodbyes to last me a lifetime," he says as he meets your eye for the first time. "You understand that, right?"

He knows you do.

You move forward to hug him then. "Goodbye James," you murmur into his chest.

"Goodbye Kate."

* * *

A week later it's in the paper. They've given up the search for Ajira Flight 316 and funeral services have been planned for several of the passengers. Those that had been on Oceanic 815 understandably got more press; to survive one plane crash only to die in another was certainly newsworthy.

His name was at the bottom. Private service to be held this Friday.

On Saturday, you go to his grave. The headstone says "Beloved Son", but you know that he meant so much more to so many people.

In the months to come when you go to visit, you know this is true. The first time you see a set of pilot's wings. Several weeks later, a postcard from Miami is planted firmly in the soil. "Thank you for saving my life," it says.

You never leave anything behind. It hurts too much to say goodbye.

* * *

Hopefully the next part will be up sometime this weekend. Let me know what you think! And I am open to suggestions. :)


	3. Chapter 3

"When were you going to tell me about this?" You ask, holding up a pamphlet for the police academy. You're smiling; it feels weird, like the first time you ride a bike after spending years not doing so.

"Signed up yesterday with Miles. What'd you want me to do? Run to your place to tell you the news?" Sawyer smirks.

You sit silently for a moment, just soaking it in. "I'm proud of you," you finally say.

"Thanks Freckles. Never thought you had it in ya," he teases.

"Shut up," you fire back, rolling your eyes.

He came back from Miami different. Like he was finally at peace with himself and all that had happened before in his life. There would always be that sadness in his eyes - there was too much that he could never forget - but he was moving on. Everyone was moving on. Everyone except you.

He'd come over to your house the week before, the first time you'd seen him since he'd left, and awkwardly asked about Clementine.

"Would you like to see her?" You probe.

"Yes," he nods, the anguish palpable on his face.

So here you were packed into your car, on the way to see her – Clementine. The idea of seeing Cassidy right now wasn't your favorite idea, but you wanted to be there for Sawyer. He seemed nervous as you walked to the door, so he waited in the background as you rang the doorbell.

She was surprised to see you, but that faded quickly when she saw the man standing behind you. "What is _he_ doing here?" She hissed, eyes blazing.

"He came to see his daughter," you say, indignant and yet almost pleading with this woman. This was not the same man who had broken her heart.

She glares at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She can't believe that you would bring him here, after everything you had been through in the past three years. But in the end, she concedes. You were always the stronger one.

"Clementine, there's someone here to see you!" Cassidy calls angrily as you and Sawyer let yourselves in. You watch from afar as he knells down to talk to her, and after awhile, you can even see Cassidy's frown soften. She walks towards you slowly, wiping tears from her eyes.

"He really is different isn't he?" She says, watching Sawyer wrap his daughter in his arms.

"Yeah," you say, nodding.

"So what? Are you two together now?" She asks.

"We were never together," you say simply. You know she would never be able to understand that no matter what had happened between you and Sawyer, your heart had always been with Jack.

* * *

It doesn't take long for you, Claire, and Aaron to get into a routine. At first, Claire struggled. You were still "mommy" and it took almost four months to make that transition from mom to just Aunt Kate. The first day he called Claire, "mommy", you both broke down in tears. Claire looked at you with such a sense of joy that you couldn't help but smile back even though you felt hollow.

On his first day of preschool, he was already so eager, ready to run off and make some friends, but Claire pulled him back to give him one last kiss on the cheek. He looked to you then and fell into your arms, his tiny arms engulfing you with all this strength. "I love you," he whispers into your ear.

"I love you too, goober." Your voice sounds strangled even to your own ears.

* * *

Every night you pull out one of his shirts and slip it on, hugging its silky fabric to your skin. You crawl into bed and close your eyes and just breathe in his scent.

One by one, the clothes lose his presence, his smell, like sand seeping through your fingertips, until one day he's just gone, and you realize you have nothing left to hold on to.

* * *

You go to their place to see Sawyer. He seems to be the only one you have left to talk to, even if when you are together, you hardly ever talk about things that really matter.

You knock on the door and Richard answers. "Is James here?" You ask, fidgeting slightly.

"No, he went to go visit Clementine this morning," Richard says. He pauses for a moment and you see the concern written on his face before he even asks, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I just wanted to talk to him. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing," you say, turning around to leave.

"Wait!" He calls out. You turn back slowly.

"Any chance you know how to sail?" He asks with a grin.

* * *

"When did you get a boat?" You shout, as the wind rips through the sails.

"Just a few weeks ago. I thought it would be an adventure, but I didn't even know where to start," he laughs lightly, sitting down alongside you now that you are fully underway.

"Well, you're a natural. You must have sailed at some point on the island."

"You'd think I would have, but I've always been just a little bit scared of the water." He looks out at the ocean then and gently fingers a chain that lies around his neck. He catches you staring as the gold cross emerges from underneath his collar.

"It was my wife's….Isabella," he begins with a trace of a Spanish accent. "She died in 1867."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"It was a long time ago," he says, placing the chain once again back into his shirt. He clears his throat as if to erase some forbidden emotion, to bury it deep inside.

"Does it ever get any easier?" You ask softly. You're desperate for the answer and yet so scared to know just how long you might feel this way.

"No," he says, looking you dead on, his eyes betraying every emotion. "But they would want us to live. It only took me 150 years to realize that," he finishes with a trace of a smile.

You both are silent then, contemplating. Two broken souls just trying to find the will to float on.

* * *

I should have the next part up sometime towards the end of the long weekend, but let me know what you think of this part! I love reviews and it only takes a bit of your time! :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me guess….doctor or serial killer?" You hear from behind you. You're in a nearby coffee shop trying to get in some last minute studying for a test you have later that evening. You'd hoped you wouldn't be bothered here, unlike at home with Aaron jumping around twenty-four/seven.

"What?" You say, turning to face the man. You can't help but be slightly amused by his question.

"It's just your book," he says, pointing to your rather large anatomy textbook sitting on the table in front of you. "I figure you're either learning how to fix someone up or to cut them open." He smiles then, and it's infectious; you find yourself smiling too.

"Actually, I'm studying to be a nurse," you say, taking a sip from your coffee. He seems impressed, and you realize you like the way his eyes light up; blue like a summer sky back home in Iowa.

"Well, you'll make a good one," he says, grinning.

"Yeah?" You laugh. "Why's that?"

"You have a nice smile," he says matter-of-factly, like it's just the most natural thing to say to some random woman in a coffee shop. You don't know what to say to that, so you give him a small smile and quickly look down, all of the sudden shy.

"I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm just too forward." he says, placing his palm to his forehead. He pauses for a moment and just looks at you. "I don't know your name," he finally remarks, in an effort to start over.

You freeze then as memories from what seem to be from a thousand years ago float back to you. A warm fire, sand beneath your palms, a smile, and a laugh. Jack, and the way he made you feel only after seven hours of knowing him.

"I'm…uh, Monica," you finally stammer out. Luckily he doesn't seem to notice.

"Paul," he grins, offering you his hand. "Can I buy you another cup of coffee?" He asks.

"Um, I'm actually waiting for my fiancé," you quickly lie, even if deep down it really doesn't feel like a lie at all. He looks to your left hand then and notices the ring on your fourth finger. Maybe it was stupid, but you couldn't find it in your heart to let it go.

He seems embarrassed when you finally make eye contact, and maybe a bit disappointed. His eyes have lost their twinkle as he offers you a small smile. "Lucky guy," he finally breathes.

"Thanks," you say as you watch him walk away.

"Nurse, huh?" A familiar voice says from behind you.

You turn around quickly to see him standing there. His hair is shorter now and it looks as if he has lost some weight. "Hurley?" You gasp, getting up to wrap him in an embrace.

"Hey Kate," he murmurs into your hair.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as you pull away. "How did you get off the island?"

"Eh, it's part of the gig dude. I have to go back soon, but I thought I'd say hi," he says as you both take a seat at your table.

"So you're the new Jacob," you finally say. You can feel the tears forming in the back of your throat, but you swallow hard trying to keep them below the surface. But Hurley being Hurley, he notices.

"He would have been proud of you, you know." The tears are even forming in his eyes now. He takes a moment to collect himself, and continues, "Ben and I….we buried him on the beach with everyone else. It seemed right."

You nod, unable to stop the tears from falling. "Thank you, Hurley," you choke out, grabbing his hand.

In an overcrowded LA coffee shop in the middle of just another ordinary fall afternoon, only two people understood why they were still there on this earth. Only two knew why it was so important to live.

* * *

You'd signed up for community college only days after you and Richard had talked. It suddenly seemed clear that _this_ was what you wanted to be doing with your life. Taking care of people – it was natural, as natural to you as being a mother.

It became easier to make it from day to day. Between taking care of Aaron with Claire, classes, and studying, you ended the day more exhausted than you could ever imagine a person to be. But you always went to bed with a sense of accomplishment and purpose, and fell asleep with the thought that he was out there somewhere, happy that you were happy.

Richard became a really good friend. He was always eager to learn new things, curious about all that he had missed while living on an island for almost a century and a half. And he was always someone good to talk to, not only because he understood, but because he was there whenever you needed him, day or night.

Everyone was moving on, trying to let go, but remembering who had made it all possible in the first place.

On the night of your last final, you hear a knock on the door. You open it to find Richard standing there, a bottle of champagne in hand.

"Congratulations!" He shouts, wrapping you in a hug.

"Thank you," you say, "although I'm not quite sure what we're celebrating." You take the bottle into the kitchen and take out some glasses.

"Claire tells me you got into the nursing program," he grins. His enthusiasm is radiating off him in waves; so much so that you find yourself giving into it.

"Yeah," you beam, as you pop open the top to the champagne and pour two glasses. He picks up his and raises it.

"How about a toast?" You pick up your glass in response.

"To Kate, and all her hard work. May she get everything she ever dreamed of," he says with a flourish. You smile shyly then and clink your glasses together. The first sip tastes bittersweet; there are some dreams that can never come true. But Richard seems to know this as he opens your take-out drawer. "How about some Chinese?"

* * *

"You will receive a fortune cookie," Richard reads from his fortune. He sits there in disbelief for a second and then laughs. He laughs so hard, you find yourself giggling too, until you are both reduced to tears. "Well, how's that for a fortune?" He finally says, wiping his eyes. "What's yours say?"

"You have found good company," you say, and suddenly the mood turns more serious. "Maybe these fortunes aren't rubbish after all," you smile and hand him another cookie. He catches your meaning and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I've got to tell you something," he says, and your face falls immediately with his tone.

"No, it's not bad," he shakes his head, giving you a small grin. "I'm going away for awhile; I want to travel, maybe see some snow. Miles taught me how to drive, so I'll be going on a little road trip."

It's not as bad as you expected it to be, but you're still saddened by the news. You pull him into a hug then. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he whispers, and you note that he seems just as upset as you.

You'd learned to move on, but you really had never been good at letting go.

* * *

Just as a note, both of those fortunes I have actually gotten. Also, this may be my last update for a little while just because I have finals coming up, but I definitely am not giving up on this fic, so keep posted! And thank you for all of your reviews! I'm loving all the support as I try and make my way through this fic. Keep them coming! :D


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and thank you for your patience as I got through my finals. I appreciate all the 'good lucks'! They went pretty well, so now I'm free to write!

* * *

It's the summer of 2009, over a year since you have come back from the island, when things finally seem to go back to normal. Or as normal as they can get considering the circumstances. You had finished your first year of community college and had been accepted into the nursing program at UCLA, Aaron had finished his first year of pre-school, Claire was settling in nicely to being a mother once again, and Sawyer and Miles had graduated from the police academy and were now working for the LAPD.

In May, Richard had packed up his car and headed North. You got a postcard every week from some different location – Seattle, British Columbia, Anchorage, Montana – always some place cold and secluded and you wondered if he ever got lonely even if his cards always seemed lighthearted. In June, you got a card from Frank posted from Hell on Grand Cayman. Jokingly he said that Hell wasn't all that it was cracked up to be and he wanted to go back to the island. Enough time had passed that you found yourself laughing, and you realized you missed the pilot and his easy-going ways. You imagined him sunbathing on the beach every day drinking beers and smiled.

* * *

During Christmas of the previous year, you had gone to see Jack's grandpa, Ray. You knew he often got lonely; Jack had confided in you after one of your visits together that he was the only family member that ever visited him, which you found odd since Ray had such a kind spirit and an easy smile, one that so often reminded you of Jack. But then again, from what Jack had told you, his family was never close, and never came first, so maybe it wasn't much of a surprise after all.

You could tell that he was glad to see you, but he seemed so much older now, weathered, like those aged houses out on the beach, battered by the wind.

"Hi Kate," he said, offering his hand. You sat in the chair beside him and held his hand within your own. His skin was cold like ice and paper thin, but when he grinned, it was like seeing the sun for the first time in months. There was so much of him in there.

"It's good to see you." Your brow furrowed as you fought the urge to cry. It had been awhile since you had allowed yourself to do that. You were supposed to be moving on, and yet here you were, visiting his family under the pretense of doing the right thing, when in actuality all you wanted was to hold on just a bit longer. Any amount of pain seemed better than letting go entirely.

"How are you holding up?" He asked after searching your eyes; he already knew the answer, but this was his kind way of inviting you in. You'd always liked that about him; his ability to listen and offer advice without making it seem like a preacher delivering a sermon or a friend who felt obligated to sit while you blathered on about whatever thing was bothering you at that moment.

But today, you didn't want to talk about that, not when it was easy enough to see just how well you were holding up. You swallowed, pushing back the tears. "I'm sorry I haven't been here to see you," you say, avoiding his eyes.

"Well why would you waste your time visiting an old man like me, pretty girl like yourself?" He winked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Because you miss him too."

Ray didn't have much to say to that.

* * *

So it became a routine, going to see him. And over time, it wasn't just about getting to talk about Jack. Suddenly he felt like your own family, and that's when you realized that he hadn't even met his own granddaughter.

By July, Claire seemed ready to face that part of herself, the part that had been abandoned by everyone, including her own flesh and blood. She had moved on from it and was healthy, but it would be another thing entirely to see a relative. She was nervous as you walked into the nursing home. Aaron held tightly on to her hand as you made the way down the hallway to his room. He had been particularly sweet and well-behaved today like he knew just how hard this would be for his mother. Maybe there was a part of him that did know, and you were once again struck by this great overhaul of love for the boy. He was still your son in so many ways, and you were so happy to be a part of his life.

"Hey Ray," you said as you led the way into the room. "I brought visitors."

Ray smiled widely as he saw Claire and Aaron walk into the door slowly. He knew about your relationship with Claire, how you had raised her son and then rescued her from the island (you only thought it fair to tell him about the island too), but you couldn't tell him who they really were in regards to him. Every time you tried, it was like your tongue became glued to the roof of your mouth, and you suddenly understood completely why it was so hard for Jack to even talk about Claire or to acknowledge who she really was. To say it out loud was to make it real, and the truth stung more that you would have liked it to.

In the car, you and Claire had agreed that it was best for you to tell Ray, simply because you were already like family and Claire was just a stranger. But agreeing to it and actually saying it were two completely different things. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and it was only when Claire took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze that you were able to finally say it.

"Ray, this is Claire, your granddaughter."

You expected him to act at least a little bit surprised, but his smile only grew wider. "I know."

Your silence and shock was enough for him to know to go on, but he looked to Claire instead. "Your name was in Christian's will, and of course no one knew who you were, but I know my son, and I had my suspicions."

He offered his hand to her then. "It's so nice to put a face to a name." Claire was hesitant, but when she took his hand, she gave him a small smile, and you felt strangely happy. Almost like Jack was in some way proud of what you had done. It was just a moment, but you could almost feel him there beside you. Later, you tell yourself it was crazy, but in your heart, you knew believing that he might have been there, in some way, was no crazier than some of the other things you had seen.

The next day you put your engagement ring back into its box. You didn't need it to feel him anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating. I just started my internship for the summer and things have been a little crazy! I finally decided to make this eight parts, so only two chapters after this one and they will be slightly different. Hope you enjoy this bit!

* * *

Thanksgiving used to be something lonely, just another day to remind you of all that you didn't have as you ate cold, thinly sliced turkey on wheat in a stolen car on some freeway. The radio would blare Patsy Cline and you'd think that maybe she was the best friend you ever had; she listened and never judged. Just sang your sorrows like she was the voice inside your head. Now here you were, less than a decade later, surrounded by the closest people that were left in your life, a warm and juicy turkey on display in the middle of your table, and you still felt the absence of that friend.

Sawyer was carving the turkey as you set at the head of the table. Around him were Claire and Aaron, Miles and his new girlfriend (everyone had really been surprised when he introduced her just a few weeks ago; he always had seemed like a loner). Even Frank had come from wherever he had gone to after he had ditched Grand Cayman. But one chair sat empty – Richard's. He had yet to come back from his little adventure and you missed him, missed his presence, missed his friendship. And the strangest thing about it was, missing him only made you miss Jack more. You were just so tired of being lonely.

"Turkey's done," Sawyer smiled softly. You had all sat down and grabbed the hand of the person next to you to say grace when you heard a knock at the door.

You paused for a moment and then swiftly stood up to check the door. "Let me just see who it is," you called as you walked into the hallway.

You were shocked to find him on the other side. His hair was fully peppered with gray now and there were a few more wrinkles along his eyes, but it was still him. "Richard," you breathed, wrapping him a hug. He held you tight and it was almost like you could feel the desperation in his grasp. You knew it so well because you felt just the same way; you didn't want to lose him too.

"Come in. Have dinner with us," you said, wiping a stray tear from your eye. It seemed like he was about to do the same, his eyes were red-rimmed, and he laughed lightly as he replied, "of course."

Everyone seemed just a bit more cheerful after that. You even pulled out another bottle of champagne and for once, sitting there all together, you felt like a real family. There were so many missing – Jack, Juliet, Charlie – but you didn't feel sad remembering them, only grateful that you were able to live your life because of the sacrifices they had made. That seemed to be the consensus as people said what they were thankful that year, and as people filed out when the night was over, hugs and kisses were exchanged rather than tears.

Richard was on your couch when you walked into the living room. He was now nursing a glass of scotch (he seemed so old-fashioned, like a father then, and you supposed in some ways he was), and he turned and smiled when he heard your high heels click on the hardwood floor.

"Hey stranger," you joked, sitting beside him. He looked down to his hands and after a few moments of silence asked if you had gotten his postcards.

"Yeah, all of them. You looked like you were having a great time," you said. He wasn't looking at you, so you knew something was wrong, you just didn't know what. You waited for him to speak; that was just your way. You always seemed to know when there was something that needed to be said and he was the same in regards to you. It was a dynamic that you had slipped into like a glove, and so comfortable and inviting that you felt as if you had been friends all your life rather than one short year.

"You know I thought getting time away would help me, but sitting here now…" he paused, trying to find the right words. "I was wrong," he said gazing at you. "I was afraid of what it meant to be living again, maybe I was afraid of dying, but I know now that I don't want to be alone."

"Well you've got me," you said simply.

"I know."

* * *

Thirty years passed.

Being a nurse was all you had hoped it would be. You loved being busy, pretty much always on call. You loved taking care of people. But if you were going to admit it to yourself, you saw Jack around every corner, whether it was a man in scrubs prepping for surgery or a doctor in a lab coat sitting with a patient. You liked to think that maybe you were helping to do some of the work he would have done if he had still been here. But then again, he had saved all of these people's lives, even if they weren't aware of it.

Aaron graduated from high school in 2022. He had always been a quiet kid, but he bloomed in high school and even picked up football. Soon the house was full of rowdy teenage boys fighting over pizza, and you and Claire couldn't help but smile at all the life underneath your roof. Aaron ended up going to medical school. You cried when he told you that he wanted to be like Uncle Jack, and when he wrapped you in his big strong arms, you couldn't believe how fast he had grown up.

Miles and his girlfriend Emily ended up getting married. She had the same sort of biting sarcasm as him, which resulted in an easy going banter. Plus, she was even better than you at putting up with Sawyer's orneriness. After you came home from their small wedding, you pulled out your engagement ring again. You hadn't cried at their wedding, though you felt the absence of Jack by your side acutely. But as you slid the ring on your finger one more time, you sobbed openly in the privacy of the room that you had once shared. All you could think was that there should have been a wedding, that he shouldn't have stayed on that goddamn island, and that life was just so unfair.

But when Richard got sick at the age of 73, thirty years after your return from the island, you caught a glimpse of the fairness of death.

* * *

He had cancer. Terminal cancer. And he refused all treatment. It seemed that he was no longer afraid of death, and after over two centuries of life, he was ready for the next "adventure" as he called it. The week before his death, he had been delirious on and off, calling for his wife, mumbling in Spanish. When lucid, he didn't have much to say, but with thirty years of friendship under your belt, you knew that just being there, holding his hand was enough. On the night of his death, he screamed out for her one last time.

"_Isabella!"_ His voice was hoarse, weak, but there was joy there, not fear. "_Te extrañé tanto_," he gasped as tears began to slowly fall down his weathered cheeks. All of the sudden he was lucid once more. "Kate, she's there! Isabella is there!"

"Where is she Richard?" You ask gently and yet you feel an eagerness to know the answer even if you're sure that he's just talking crazy because of the drugs and the cancer that has eaten away at him slowly. "Heaven," he breathes, a smile radiant upon his face. He closes his eyes, he seems at peace. And then he's gone.

You're left with the uncertainty of what comes next. In life, and now in death.

And yet, his words stir hope in your chest once again.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: There's one more part to this and it should be up at the end of the week. Hope you all enjoy this and comments are love!

* * *

Dear Aunt Kate,

It's been four years since you've started this journal, four years since they diagnosed you with Alzeheimer's. That day you went out and bought this book. It's worn now. Some of the pages have begun to fall out. I suppose it's because you read through them so much, trying to remember. It seemed futile to me at the time. As a doctor, I know what this disease does. I know the facts. But if there's anything my life has taught me, it's that some things can't be supported by fact alone. Uncle Richard was example enough. It may sound crazy too, but I remember the island. At times I think I even feel its pull still. You used to talk about how stupid Uncle Jack was for believing that (even though I know you didn't mean it), but I know what he meant now.

It's been 15 years since Uncle Richard died. Five since Uncle James passed. I'm steadily becoming aware that I will be the only one left to tell this story. How did time go by so fast? I have two kids now, a girl and a boy. The girl, Lauren, just started college. Jack will be a junior in high school. I'm sure you wrote that down in here at some point, but I won't check. This was never my book to read.

I remember sitting by you when you first started this. You were writing furiously and I asked you what could possibly be so important that you had to get it all down right at this moment. You told me you didn't want to forget him. I think the thought terrified you.

Sometimes I wonder what you wrote, but I know it's too private for even his own nephew to know. Anyways, I have my own stories. The ones you and Mom told me. Sometimes Uncle James when he'd had too many beers.

I still remember him reading to me. Alice in Wonderland was always my favorite and now it's my kids' favorite too.

You will never read this. At this moment, Mom is making phone calls to arrange your funeral. You died yesterday, quietly, as I held your hand. You remembered me. It was the first time in almost a year that you did.

It might seem silly that I'm doing this, writing this down, but this is your story, and it's not yet complete. Uncle Desmond told me once that when we die, we meet our loved ones once again. That's not an uncommon belief obviously, but he'd told me he'd seen it. He'd been to heaven. I'd seen and heard enough crazy things in my life to believe him.

I think you believed him too. Death didn't scare you, even when you couldn't remember who you were anymore. It was almost like subconsciously you knew where you were going, that your journey was almost over. You were almost home.

Last night near the end as you lay in your bed and I sat beside you, you were there, but you weren't if that makes any sense. You looked right past me as if I wasn't even there. Suddenly, you whispered "I've missed you so much", but I know you didn't mean me. I think you might have seen whatever Uncle Desmond saw. Maybe you were with Uncle Jack again. I told you to let go then, and you did.

I'm planning on burying this with you. It would seem wrong not to, like a part of you was missing. Your whole life is in here.

I hope you know wherever you are that I always thought of you as a mother. Never doubt that you didn't mean the world to me. I miss you more than you can ever understand. Or maybe you can.

I'll be seeing you.

Love, Aaron


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So here it is. The last part. Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading this and for everyone's patience as I struggled through it. You guys are the best and I really hope you enjoy this last bit.

* * *

April 12, 2050

Dear Kate,

I'm writing this for you now so that you'll remember. I'm not sure how much time left I have to get it all down. Yes Kate, this is you. Katherine Anne Austen. There are some things that are just too important for you to forget.

It seems funny to me now that I would be writing about these specific three years. At the time, I spent most of those years trying to forget the time I spent on the island, and now when it's likely I will not be able to remember them, they are the years that I so desperately want to hold onto. My life began with the plane crash, at least the life that I want to remember. It began when I met him, as sappy and cliché as it sounds. Now, 46 years later, there hasn't been a day since that first day that I haven't loved him.

It all started in 2004, the year you were in a plane crash. That's always one of those things that you see in TV shows or movies, sometimes on the news, and you think that will never happen to me. And you think if it ever did, it would be one of the worst things to ever happen to you. Maybe at the time, I was thinking that. Part of me is glad that soon I won't be able to remember some of the images from that day. But the plane crash is how I met him, so in the end, I can't say that I'm not glad that it happened. Since then, after all the things I've seen, I think it was meant to be.

His name was Jack Shephard. He was a doctor, but in an ironic twist of fate, you were the one who fixed him up that day. He had this huge gash on his back and you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to sew him up, but he had such strong faith in you despite the fact that he didn't even know you and it calmed you in some way. He told you a story about this girl he did surgery on in his residency. He had messed up and he had to fix it. So he let himself be afraid for 5 seconds. That was it. Then the fear was gone, and he fixed her up good as new. I still count to five sometimes when I'm afraid. It always helps, but maybe it's because he's on my mind.

I've been in love with him since that day. I don't think I knew it at the time, and God knows there were times I wish it wasn't true, but if there were one constant in my life, it would be that. There isn't a day he doesn't cross my mind in some way.

I used to see him everywhere at work. I was a nurse but I retired recently. I specialized in emergency care. There's something so thrilling and mind numbing to it. You only have an instant, you can only think about what's at hand at that very second. There isn't room for much else. It helped get my mind off things, usually off of how much I was missing him. But sometimes I'd be on break, or dropping off files at the nurse's station, and there he'd be. Walking down a corridor. Helping a patient. Just a few years ago, I saw a doctor with the same short buzz cut that he had when I first met him. I felt a familiar ache inside. It hurt to think that he was probably the same age Jack was when he died, and I am now old enough to be his mother. How could we have spent so many years apart? It seems like an eternity and yet I can remember him - the feel of his touch, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his lips - just like it were yesterday.

Sometimes I regret leaving him there on the island. But I know it was what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to live my life. And I did. I did it for him. He changed my life in so many ways, that it seemed wrong to waste my opportunities. He died to save us all, and I spent every day trying to remember that, especially in the beginning when all I could think to do was be angry with him over leaving me once again.

But I know how much he loved me. And I felt loved even after he was gone. I know if there had been a way we would have been together. Maybe we will be once again.

My mom once told me "you can't help who you love Katherine", and it wasn't until I met Jack that I truly understood what she meant. I couldn't help loving him even after he was long gone. I dated some people, but never had anything serious. I never married. Never had any children of my own. But I loved fully and lived my life, and maybe that's all anyone can ask for in this lifetime.

My greatest fear right now is that I won't remember him. I'll lose the way his hair felt running through my fingertips, or the sound of him reading to Aaron, or the feel of his scruff against my cheekbone. I'll never remember how he made me feel or all the ways he changed my life. So I'm praying to a God that I never used to believe in, praying that by writing this all down, he'll never really leave.

I'm praying that maybe one day I can get back to him.

Please, just try not to forget.

* * *

You wake up on his chest. The beat of his heart is steady underneath your fingertips and you think for a second that this must be another one of your dreams as a swell of disappointment washes over you. But you don't wake up and then it all comes rushing back to you. You're dead. You're in the afterlife. And he is really here.

You look up to his face. He's sleeping soundly (it seems weird that you have to sleep in heaven, but you like the normalcy of it), and you just watch him, taking in the lines of his face and the curve of his lips. Suddenly you can't resist the urge any longer, and you reach out to touch him, stroking his cheek, and smile as his eyes flutter open slowly.

"Hey," he says sleepily and smiles.

"Hey," you say grinning back.

"Are you okay?" You almost begin to cry as those familiar words meet your ears. You had missed the way his eyes would shine with so much concern for you.

"Yeah," you say, swallowing back tears. "I just can't believe you're here."

He cocks his head, and gives you one of those looks, like he can't believe you're there with him either, or that he's touched by your words. And then he pulls you up to him until you're face to face, gazing at you with so much love that you think your heart just might explode. He closes the distance between you then and kisses you softly, and you can feel all the years of absence, all of the pain, slowly dissipate as if they weren't even a part of you.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispers against your lips as you pull away. And as he wraps you in his arms and you lie in bed together, you know that this time, you have him forever.


End file.
